fringe fic: scar tissue that i wish you saw (olivia/alt!charlie/alt!lincoln)
scar tissue that i wish you saw
charlie francis. olivia/alt!charlie/alt!lincoln. alt!charlie/OCs
the story of Charlie Francis unravels over his most hated pastime (or proof that happiness is not as cookie cutter as one would believe).
9,657 words. pg-13
A/N: Written for
vacationthon. 
primarycolors92 asked for forced vacations, slight to medium angst & visiting families. My alt!Charlie Francis muse was more than happy to comply. Title taken from the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ song because it played on repeat while I wrote most of it. Thank you also to my lovely beta.
i.
Charlie Francis was four the last time he slept through the night.
It was the night before the first vacation he ever took. They were headed to Boston, towards the land of snow. Of course it was summer so there wouldn’t be any snow, but Charlie was too young to accept that fact though it was repeated over and over to him by his mother and brother. Charlie lived in Miami where it was warm all year round and every person who passed through thought the people were blessed for it. He longed for something different. Something pure.
They never make it to Boston and after that, Charlie suffers scarred and restless nights in the blistering heat of Miami.
One man’s heaven is another man’s hell.
ii.
Charlie knows who Lincoln is before he ever meets him. His name is legendary – the Department of Defense’s golden child. Every team member that Charlie’s had since Lincoln’s arrival has whispered Lincoln’s name either reverently or jealously. He sits on a pedestal made from hype - untouchable. So when Lincoln gets assigned as Charlie’s partner, Charlie expects a smug, arrogant know-it-all who will see Charlie as nothing more than a stepping stone to a better career.
What he gets is Lincoln – humble leader, big dork and fiercely loyal friend all wrapped into one.
Charlie also knows who Olivia is before he meets her. She is the villain, the impostor. They’re supposed to fear her. Of course when she joins their Team, he is not surprised to find there aren’t many people in the world he’ll be able to trust more.
The thing about Charlie: he only needs to be taught once in order to learn his lesson.
---
When his father left, Charlie’s mother didn’t speak for days. She was waiting for him to come back. When a week passed and he was still gone, she sat both her sons down.
“Don’t settle for anything that doesn’t make you happy,” she said.
Now, Eddie, Charlie’s older brother, has been married for fifteen years to the same woman. They share hobbies and dreams and they even finish each other’s sentences. Eddie smiles a lot whenever he talks about her. Eddie smiles a lot, period. He’s happy.
Charlie – well – Charlie’s still working on it.
This is the exception that proves the rule.
More often than it should.
---
iii.
Olivia lives on the tenth floor of her building and of course the elevator is out. This is a great omen for their trip and Charlie tells Lincoln and Olivia that at least twice as they haul her suitcase, which is obviously lined with cement, down ten flights of stairs. It's only after he swears for the third time in a language other than English that Olivia says anything.
"What's wrong with Charlie?" She asks Lincoln because Charlie is too busy muttering in Spanish or possibly Mandarin.
"Charlie hates vacations," Lincoln says and Charlie almost fumbles the luggage.
"I do not hate vacations," he says, but the words come too quick and squeezed together to be taken as truth so he switches points. "And this isn't a vacation. It's a cross country business trip."
"You're the only one calling it that," Lincoln counters as they make it through another flight. He's helping Charlie with Olivia's suitcase, which is the size of a two-seater couch and might weigh just as much. Charlie considers pushing forward a little and sending Lincoln tumbling down the next flight, but decides not to. They have three more flights to go and it's not worth having to lug this thing by himself.
Instead he sighs. "It's a bonding experience forced on us by Fake Broyles-"
Olivia cuts him off with a click of her tongue. "Don't call him that."
"Sorry." He's not. Usually he does a better job of hiding it though.
Lincoln laughs. "Don't be too hard on him, Olivia. Vacations make him testy."
Charlie reconsiders his earlier decision not to send Lincoln flying down the stairs. Maybe Olivia senses this because she lays a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. "It's gonna be fun."
To make up for the Broyles comment, he confines the whining to his head.
For now.
---
Forced vacations were for agents who lost family members or who had just done something unthinkable but necessary, like shot a dangerous kid or ambered a half a town. People on the edge of mental breakdowns. That sort of thing.
They had just saved not one, but two worlds. No one had died in the process. All in all it was considered a good day. Logically, there was no need for an emotional time-out. Except apparently Fake Broyles and Director Bishop both thought it was necessary that the three of them take a breather to collect their thoughts now that their Liv had decided to stay in the other universe so she could shack up with Director Bishop’s son and their baby. In turn, the Olivia they had been working with chose to keep working in this universe, which Charlie can’t blame her for. If he ever meets Peter Bishop in person, he will definitely punch him twice, once for each Olivia Dunham.
Olivia’s still trying to wrap her head around losing, finding and then losing Peter.
Lincoln is also distraught. Because he’s convinced himself that Liv was the love of his life and he’ll never find anyone like her again. Or at least that’s what Charlie’s heard. It’s about the only thing Lincoln won’t talk about.
Charlie…well, Charlie’s fine. The truth is he learned to roll with the punches when he was a kid, and it’s the kind of thing that doesn’t abandon you easy. But he’s also part of a team and that means everything. So when Fake Broyles and Director Bishop say that they all need a vacation, he pretends like he’s just as burned out as Lincoln and Olivia.
Then, Fake Broyles and Director Bishop start talking about ‘cohesion’ and ‘trust,’ and the fact that the crossover centers in Illinois, Nevada and Texas are near completion. Suddenly two weeks sitting on the couch watching Jerry Springer re-runs has become three weeks trekking around the country for work.
“You’ll just take a tour, answer any questions they might have. The rest of the time you can spend doing whatever your want,” Fake Broyles says.
Charlie believes the expression is kill two birds with one stone.
The truth is he hates badly hidden agendas just as much as he hates vacations.
---
Charlie cheers up a bit once they finally get out of the city. He’s lived in the state of New York for most of his adult life, but he never realized how much of it is open space and forest. Nature at its best. Just the sight of it makes him smile. He’s a city boy, wouldn’t last a minute out here.
He tells Olivia this. She laughs and admits it’s the same for her. She was a military brat which means she moved around a lot. She swears by living in the suburbs.
Lincoln’s hands clench the steering wheel a little harder but he laughs with them, makes a few harmless taunts at both of them. If Charlie didn’t know him so well, he wouldn’t notice his discomfort.
Lincoln grew up on a farm in this area. He gets a little twitchy whenever someone mentions it, like the wilderness might swallow him back whole if he admits it’s the truth. He left at seventeen, joined the early track for the Department of Defense and never looked back.
Charlie met Lincoln’s parents once and they seemed perfect. Smiled in all the right places and wore their pride on their sleeve for having such an amazing son. Maybe they were a little old fashioned – technology phobic, as Lincoln would say, but most of the rural population still was. They were harmless.
Why Lincoln would run from that he’ll never know.
---
iv.
It’s a 14 hour trip from New York to Chicago.
At least it should be. They make it in twelve because Lincoln is insane. He uses his phone to coordinate a quickest route, the type of thing that updates itself every fifteen minutes. Charlie doesn’t understand why it’s so important to Lincoln that they get their early, but he thinks it has little to do with arriving and more to do with Lincoln obsession with efficiency.
The Chicago center is behind schedule, so they spend the next three days sight seeing. Olivia keeps telling them this Chicago is exactly like the other one. There’s so much relief in her voice that it makes Charlie wonder just how different two worlds filled with the same people can be.
Day one, she drags them by the hand to some art museum where Lincoln listens intently as she explains what’s different. Later they pour over art history books, trying to brainstorm as to why Starry Night would have a red sky instead of blue or why American Gothic is missing the pitchfork. Charlie leaves his two favorite nerds in Olivia’s hotel room and hits Rush Street on his own that night.
The second day they wake him up God awful early so they can get to the Aquarium before peak hours. He really doesn’t mind once they get there. He will never admit this out loud, but he has a soft spot for penguins, which Olivia seems to sense because it’s the first place she drags him to. Her arm is tucked around his elbow and his hands are shoved in his pocket because he might do something stupid with them, like brush that wandering piece of blonde hair out of her face because it kind of feels right to do so. It gets less awkward when Lincoln returns from wherever he’s wandered off to, slings and arm over both their shoulders and tells them what he’s just discovered about seals.
The next day, they discover the city from inside out, every little place that Lincoln or Charlie has ever read about, then walk the Pier and see a Shakespeare show. Olivia gasps at the end of Hamlet, whispers in Charlie’s ear, that’s not the way it goes and Charlie laughs so loud that they almost get kicked out.
---
On the fourth day, Charlie wakes up late, his head aching and his throat dry. After Shakespeare, they hit Rush Street together, met all the friends Charlie had made the night before. He remembers very little, except that Lincoln as usual egged him on, matching him drink for drink, knowing it wouldn’t affect him and that Charlie, after almost eight years working and drinking together, still wouldn’t back down from the challenge.
Lincoln doesn’t look up from whatever he’s reading on his phone but he sort of nods his head in the direction of the coffee he brought. Charlie doesn’t bother asking how Lincoln got in his room. It was probably illegal, and even if it wasn’t, he’s grateful for the coffee. It’s still piping hot and smells like heaven. Charlie’s pretty sure he whispers ‘I love you’ to the cup which makes Lincoln roll his eyes but smile anyways like the words were meant for him.
“Olivia got a head start checking out the center.”
Charlie rubs his eyes as he sits back down on the edge of the bed. “How’d she manage that?”
“She’s not a light weight like some people.” Lincoln barely gets the words out before Charlie’s chucking a pillow at his face and muttering obscenities.
“Why didn’t you go with her?” Charlie asks, as he rifles through the duffle bag at his feet looking for some clean clothes. Maybe Olivia was right to have packed as much as she did.
Lincoln stays silent, a rare feat seeing as he always has an answer, even to things that go unasked. Charlie looks up, a little worried, but Lincoln just shrugs his shoulders, a little too casual.
“Who would have brought you your coffee then?”
Charlie ruffles Lincoln’s hair as he passes him on the way to the bathroom.
---
The Chicago center looks different than the original blueprint they’d been shown. It’s mostly one level, a lot of white walls and low ceilings and twitching lights. All of the agents wear the same white jumpsuits and smile wide at their guests. It’s like something out of an old sci fi thriller.
As soon as they reach the Control Center, it’s easy to find Olivia, her black pantsuit like a target hovering somewhere in the far left corner of the room. She’s smiling, laughing at something the guy beside her said. Charlie knows him well.
In between Wife One and Wife Two, there was John Scott, the on again off again boyfriend for two years. It was the type of relationship that lingered between serious and not serious enough, until John got the job in Chicago and they discovered neither of them was cut out for the long distance thing. They parted on good terms.
Because they both still work for the Department of Defense, they cross paths every once and a while. Every time they do, Charlie is reminded why he and John lingered on for so long. John has a certain appeal, a charisma that tugs at you, makes you fall fast and then leaves you weak and vulnerable, sure that you will be making a mistake if you let him go. It’s dangerous. It’s probably what made him such a good undercover operative.
He feels a little clench in his stomach seeing John with Olivia, not sure who it’s directed towards. He doesn’t dwell on it.
“You’re kidding me?” Lincoln’s voice barely contains its frustration.
Lincoln’s hatred of John goes way back to before he and Charlie started working together. It was when Lincoln started training with the Department of Defense and was assigned to John’s team, back when Charlie had worked four floors up in non-bioterrorism and only knew of Lincoln as the annoying little smartass who was making John’s life hell. Charlie was, and still is impressed. John has the patience of a saint.
John said Lincoln hated him because he couldn’t work well with authority figures. Lincoln said it had to do with John being a compulsive liar. It must have fallen somewhere in between.
When Lincoln and Charlie started working together and he eventually found out that Charlie was the Charlie, it only made matters worse. A string of unfinished thoughts like “how could you…” and “he’s such a…” stuttered past Lincoln’s lips whenever the guy’s name was mentioned. Then he flushed red, bottling up all that frustration and dropped the whole subject.
The minute John spots them he smiles, warm and open like he only ever does around his family. Charlie feels that familiar ache when he smiles back. When he sneaks a glance at Lincoln, it looks like he wants to vomit.
“Charles,” John says, and he’s the only person who can get away with calling Charlie by his real name. Before Charlie can say anything he’s pulled into a hug, the type that lingers too long to be just friendly. It probably doesn’t help that Charlie makes sure to inhale deeply, breathing in the scent of him, hoping it won’t leave him again.
When they part, John’s still smiling. It goes fake and stale the minute he spots Lincoln smirking beside them. “Agent Lee.”
Lincoln smiles, too gleeful at John’s sudden mood change. “Agent Scott. This is a lovely little place you’ve got here.” He emphasizes the word ‘little’ with a quirk of his lips, and John’s eyes are twitching to keep from narrowing.
“Thank you. It’s one of my many operations.”
Before Lincoln can say whatever barely covert stinging retort he has on his lips, Charlie cuts in. “I see you’ve met Olivia.”
John claps Charlie on the shoulder, a silent thankful gesture. “I have. What an amazing woman, this one is.”
Olivia looks both shaken and amused by what’s just taken place, eyes darting between the three of them as if she’s trying to process what’s just happened. She manages a smile.
The rest of the tour is uneventful. John does an amazing job of ignoring all the barbs Lincoln throws his way. Charlie does just as good of a job diffusing the situation. Olivia is quiet, which Charlie expects.
It shocks everyone. He’s not one for giving power to stereotypes, but the truth is he doesn’t come across as bisexual. It’s not as though he hides it, but he doesn’t exactly talk about it either. He doesn’t talk about his personal life at all.
As far as family went, his kids never knew any different and his wives, they had both known from day one. His mother was fine with it after the shock set in, probably because Charlie had already given her a grandchild and John spoke fluent Spanish, something neither of her sons took the time to learn.
Charlie’s brother was another story. For two years, Eddie didn’t speak to him, and their relationship only found its way back on track once Charlie married his second wife and Eddie could pretend the whole John thing was some sort of experiment gone wrong. Charlie knows that he should be offended, part of him probably is, but Eddie’s family and there’s already complicated history there. He’ll take what he can get.
Olivia’s silence drags on, lingering until Lincoln’s run out of insults for John, and Charlie has a dull headache forming from having to defend his ex. It drags until Charlie’s eyes meet hers in the passenger side mirror and they all realize Lincoln hasn’t moved the car.
Olivia clears her throat. “So you and John.” She stops, teeth pressed against the bottom of her lip as she thinks of a way to finish it.
Lincoln laughs. "You'll soon find Charlie has left a string of broken hearts across this great land." Charlie wants to object. It’s the exact opposite. Men and women more than often leave him. They describe him as withdrawn and lacking commitment. Two marriages and a live-in boyfriend before thirty-five say otherwise, in his book, but seeing as enough people have mentioned it, he’s obviously missing something.
He lets out a little burst of laughter at Lincoln’s assessment. "Yeah that's me - a heartbreaker." Sarcasm drips from his words and he glances back at Olivia hoping she’ll be smiling, but she’s still lost in her thoughts, small frown gracing her lips. It makes his stomach go cold. "Is this gonna be a problem?"
She looks up at him, caught off guard by the question. "Hmm?"
"He means because he likes men. Sometimes." Lincoln says. Charlie isn’t going to tell him the addendum is wrong and that he likes men all the time, just like he likes women all the time too. It’s too preachy, often proves to be a little confusing and would just serve to get them off topic.
There’s an edge to Lincoln’s voice. For all the ribbing he gives Charlie about dating John, Lincoln has stood by Charlie through every misguided relationship. Charlie may not talk about his personal life or broadcast that he sees men, but Lincoln’s always known.
Olivia scoffs. "Please. I figured that out the first time I was here."
Charlie wonders if it's really that obvious or if Olivia's just that observant. It's probably a little of both.
"Then why do you look like you want to vomit?" Lincoln asks.
Olivia scratches the back of her head, eyes suddenly keen to avoid everyone and then mumbles, "I was engaged to the other John Scott."
Charlie's first reaction is to laugh, but the sound never finds its way out of his throat. The shock leaves it frozen somewhere inside him. He purses his lips tightly so that he can keep from saying anything, not that he'd know what to say.
"Oh." Lincoln sums it up neatly and then when it looks like no one would care to elaborate, he puts the car in drive and they go a few minutes without incident. There's a tense silence that lingers over them which is obviously something Charlie and Olivia can handle better than Lincoln, who glances nervously between the two of them before finally blurting out. "Can I just say something?"
Charlie is tempted to say no, but Olivia speaks before he can say anything, "Go ahead."
He pauses and bites his lip as if he’s actually going to filter his thoughts. And then, "You both have terrible taste in men."
Olivia laughs as soon as the words are out of his mouth, almost as if she was expecting it.
"You think so?" Charlie says with a quirk of his lips that only Lincoln can see.
Lincoln ignores the suggestion, ignores Charlie all together, and continues to talk, making eye contact with Olivia through the rearview mirror. "Now as for women, Charlie has fantastic taste in women. His first wife is stacked. I'm pretty sure she could have been a model. And she's smart too. Owns her own business. The other one's not bad either."
"My second wife hates Lincoln." Charlie explains.
"Your second wife hates everyone.” Lincoln gets this glint in his eye like Charlie’s unknowingly paved the way for a conversation he’s going to regret. “But I'm glad you mentioned her because we had the most fascinating conversation yesterday evening."
"Why are you calling his ex-wife?" Olivia asks without really expecting Lincoln to acknowledge it. When he gets on a roll, he’s impossible to stop.
"Did you know that Lauren's prom is tomorrow night?" Lincoln asks.
"Yeah,” Charlie says, eyes narrowing. “Why?"
"Who's Lauren?" Olivia asks and this time Charlie takes the time to answer her.
"My daughter."
"You have a daughter?"
Charlie laughs a little at the disbelief in her voice. "Two of them. One from each wife."
"And they live in side by side houses in Valhalla, Texas which is about thirty minutes from where we're headed next,” Lincoln says, “It’s a sign, you know. The fates have aligned so that you can see your daughter off to prom and scare what ever poor soul agreed to be her date with your sidearm.”
“It’s Texas. I doubt you could find a boy who’s scared of a gun,” Charlie says.
---
v.
Lincoln’s complex and weirdly accurate phone estimates it will take them 20 hours to get to Texas, which meant if they were going to make Lauren’s prom, they had to leave right after the tour of the Chicago factory. Lincoln’s obviously planned for this because all of their bags were conveniently packed in the back of the SUV when neither Olivia nor Charlie was looking.
They go thirteen hours before they have to stop at some ragtag motel so Lincoln can get some shut eye (God forbid anyone else be allowed to drive). They only get one room, pointedly ignoring the raised eyebrow from the clerk at the front desk. Lincoln collapses on the first bed and is asleep before they can say anything. Charlie naturally gives Olivia the second bed and takes the couch.
He doesn’t sleep at all – too much nervous and excited energy pulsing through his veins. He had been debating whether or not to see his girls since they started this trip. They moved here three years ago, after his youngest, Rose, almost got ambered. Texas had the lease Fringe events per square mile. Since then his relationship with them has been solid, but between his job and their hectic schedules, he didn’t get to see them as often as he liked. They spoke every day, by phone or video chat, but it wasn’t the same.
Work, it seemed, was the only way he got a chance to visit his girls in Valhalla. Whenever he had a job in Texas, Lincoln would convince him to stop by, even if it was only for a few minutes before a flight. It was always a surprise for them. They’d both light up like Christmas trees when they saw him, babbling a mile a minute about anything they could think of. In the end, it was bittersweet. Holding them close, seeing their smile and hearing their laugh in person made everything else pale in comparison, all those phone conversations and video chats meaningless.
He’s so wrapped up in his own thoughts and worries that it takes him awhile to realize he’s not the only one awake. He watches as Olivia shifts in her bed, rolling from one side only to flip back after a few minutes.
“Olivia?”
Olivia curls into herself so that her face can better make out Charlie’s in the dark. Her voice is groggy but firm, “Yeah, Charlie.”
Charlie fiddles with the hem of his blanket. There’s a loose thread there that he can’t stop pulling at. He doesn’t know quite how to say what he wants to, so he just blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “They never met her.”
Olivia is quiet and he thinks he should elaborate. He counts three breaths before she lets out a huff of a laugh. “Is that your nice way of asking me to meet your family?”
Charlie sighs. “Yes.”
Olivia laughs again. “Alright then.”
They both fall asleep soon after.
---
Valhalla, Texas has a population of 1,656 and is known for being one of the sixteen cities in the United States that still mines zinc. The town is split pretty much in half by the Colorado River.
Olivia has never heard of Valhalla. Of course, if she had a map of the Texas she grew up with, the land of Valhalla would be split between Marble Falls and Meadow Lakes, 35 miles outside of Austin.
It’s strange – she whispers to him as they approach the house, her arm curled in his. Her father grew up in Austin, and when he died, Olivia remembers driving back there for a memorial mass. She couldn’t have been more than five, but the sights and sounds of that journey through Texas are etched into her memory. She passed through this land in her world. It looks so similar, so different from this other world she’s been thrust into.
It makes Charlie smile – knowing that his daughters are growing up in a place that resembles a world that’s so whole.
---
Charlie’s exes are amused by Olivia’s presence, maybe because she spends most of her time glued to Charlie’s side, afraid to say anything that would give her away. His girls react to their presence in different ways. Rose, the little one, soaks up the attention like it’s a rare gift. He can already tell once she’s old enough she won’t stay long in a quiet place like this.
Lauren is quiet, granted he doesn’t see her a lot. She’s busy getting ready, but when she gets a few minutes to sit with them, she spends most of it studying Olivia, like she’s looking for some sort of hidden agenda. Before she heads off to prom, she pulls Charlie aside and tells him she approves of Olivia, but that she’ll always like Lincoln best.
And as it turns out, Lauren’s date is a boy she knew when they lived in New York and he is a little put off by their sidearms.
All in all, Charlie calls this a win.
---
The Texas plant is a carbon copy of the one in Chicago. The only difference is the workers there actually wear colors and are star struck by their appearance. Lincoln takes to it like a plant in sunshine. The attention just makes Charlie uncomfortable.
When Olivia jerks her head towards the exit, he breathes a sigh of relief. They wander towards the smokers’ pavilion. He lights up out of habit and Olivia watches him curiously.
It’s easy to forget that she knew a version of him too. Where someone at the Department is always mentioning the loss of the other Olivia to the other side, Olivia has only mentioned once that she knew another Charlie and then her voice was so far away that Charlie didn’t know how to ask more.
Times like this remind him. The other Charlie never smoked. He probably didn’t have kids either judging from earlier. Or two wives. Or drink his coffee with no cream and two sugars.
Charlie looks up and Olivia takes a deep breath and he knows where this is going before she even starts to speak – knows her so well sometimes that it scares him.
“He was married for twenty years to a woman named Sonya who used to bring me chicken noodle soup when I was sick because her husband was worried but didn’t know how to show it. They didn’t have any kids but they wanted them. His father died when he was three. He got seasick and hated long plane rides, but he never let it affect his work. He was Agent Broyles’ right hand man. Someday he was gonna be all of our bosses, but he never let it show. He had the best poker face, told the funniest jokes, and never let you down.”
Charlie soaks in the information and processes it just as fast. He picks up on all the things she doesn’t say, on the past tense and the melancholy nostalgia of her voice. “How did he die?”
“A shapeshifter killed him,” she says, and then she laughs, jarringly, “And then I killed the shapeshifter. I know that’s the truth, but it still feels like I looked Charlie in the eye and shot him in the head.”
There’s another laugh, but it’s cruel and taunting, and it melts into tears as soon as it dies down. Charlie is there then, dying his cigarette out and pulling her into a tight embrace, one arm curled around her shoulders and the other hooking up her back. He can feel the tears soaking his t-shirt and the dull dig of her fingernails against his back as she clutches there.
For a moment, he lets her pretend this is the other Charlie Francis and that she can absolve herself of some perceived sin against him. He waits for her grip to loosen and her tears to slow before he speaks.
“I like boats. I don’t think I’ll ever be anyone’s boss. And as far as I know, my father’s still alive.” He pulls back and she’s looking at him through different eyes now. He smiles slightly. “I’m not him.”
“I know that,” she says.
“You’re not her either,” he adds.
“I know that too,” she wipes at her eyes, “It’s just sometimes…”
She shrugs her shoulders like there’s no way to explain it, but he gets it.
“I know.” They both lean against the stone wall, shoulders brushing and hips bumping, pointedly ignoring the workers on break a few yards ahead who are still curious about the scene they just witnessed. He lights up another cigarette and she doesn’t watch him so closely this time.
Once he’s done and the gawkers have vanished, she elbows him lightly in the side to get his attention. She’s got a small smile on her face. “You do have a pretty mean poker face too though.”
“I do.” Charlie grins. “And just think – Vegas is next.”
---
vi.
The stretch of road between Texas and Nevada blurs together, and there is a thrum of anticipation lingering between all three of them. What happens in Vegas – the saying’s available in every universe.
Lincoln keeps glancing his way, like it’s taking everything in his power to filter his thoughts. Things are shifting. It’s subtle but they both feel it. Eventually it will have to be addressed.
Lincoln waits until they’re driving through a Nevada desert and Olivia is fast asleep in the backseat. Charlie knows it’s coming before it happens. Lincoln flexes his fingers on the steering wheel twice and between each time he checks his rearview mirror to be sure Olivia is asleep.
“You and I haven’t talked in awhile.”
Charlie laughs. “You’ve talked plenty. In fact, you never stop talking.” He feels a little bad when he sees Lincoln frown. Whenever he frowns he sort of resembles a lost puppy. He looks nervous too. Definitely uncomfortable – something Lincoln rarely shows so openly. Charlie is serious now. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing.” Lincoln’s voice is too quiet and lacking emotion to be taking seriously. Charlie doesn’t push it though. He knows Lincoln needs to lead this conversation. So he waits. He counts three songs before Lincoln speaks again, two country hits and something in French – he’ll never get used to Lincoln’s CD mixes. When the violin on the third dies down, Lincoln speaks, trying too hard to be casual. “You and Olivia seem awfully close.”
Charlie does not laugh, though he knows it’s probably acceptable in this situation. “Subtlety is not your strong suit.” When Lincoln doesn’t respond, Charlie decides they’re going to have to have this conversation sooner or later. Might as well now. “I like her.”
“I like her too.” Lincoln says a little too quickly.
This time Charlie does laugh. “I like you more. Is that what you need to hear?”
“Don’t be absurd,” Lincoln says. There’s a twenty second pause where an inappropriate for the moment techno beat fills the car and then, “But for the record –”
“I like you more,” Charlie says succinctly. Lincoln grins from ear to ear.
The conversation ends there.
---
They have this thing – Lincoln likes to call it a moment of insanity
Its roots are in Vegas. Charlie was fresh off his second divorce and sure that this was it. Of course Lincoln reminded him gently, that he probably said that after the first wife and after John. His face had puckered around the name and Charlie had laughed and mused aloud that maybe he should go back to men. Lincoln grabbed at his wrist then and asked, too quietly, if John wasn’t the only one.
Charlie saw it then – the hope trying to hide under a mask of curiousness, the slight blush working its way up from under his collar and maybe he saw the reason Lincoln left the middle of nowhere so many years ago.
“No,” Charlie said, and he downed another shot to hide from Lincoln’s narrowing eyes.
Charlie was a little drunk so he wasn’t fast enough to realize what was coming next. Lincoln’s hold on Charlie’s wrist had turned into a sort of caress as he processed the turn of events, thumb idly rubbing over his pulse point causing a barely audible catch of breath from Charlie, who was constantly afraid of losing this sort of intimacy. At the sound, Lincoln’s hand slowly slid up his arm, up his neck, coming to cup the back of Charlie’s head, pulling him into a kiss. It was one of Lincoln’s smoother moves.
When they broke apart, Charlie laughed a little. “You are playing with fire, kid.”
And yet, in the end, it’s always Charlie though who gets burned.
---
They arrive in the city right around noon. The Department has arranged that they stay in one of the fanciest hotels in Vegas, right on the strip. The Fringe badges get them bumped to one of the top floors. It only has three suites, one for each of them. They’re given enough alcohol on the floor to serve a whole football team and a credit line large enough to put both Charlie’s kids through college. They all decide to get the Vegas plant out of the way as quickly as possible.
But the powers that be keep Lincoln on the phone all afternoon, and they delay their tour until further notice. Charlie’s not sure how they spend their first night. The last thing he remembers is black jack and free shots of tequila. He wakes up in his own bed (blessing) with a headache the size of Texas (curse).
He showers, which in hindsight is a stupid idea. The whole time he keeps worrying he will tip over or pass out and crack his head open on this gold plated tub. Needless to say, it’s probably the fastest shower he ever takes (and he once pulled undercover work in prison). When he’s finished getting dressed, he checks his phone and finds a text from Lincoln.
Commandeered the SUV to help fix the Vegas plant. Meet me here at 2. Sorry there’s no coffee.
His eyes flicker to the phone’s clock. 1:15PM. A text from Olivia appears as he’s deleting Lincoln’s:
If you’re up now, I have hot coffee.
He rushes to the door and sure enough as soon as it opens, Olivia’s waiting there, handing him a coffee before he can say a word. The ‘thank you’ gets lost in the warm liquid when his lips touch the rim, but Olivia nods like she heard it anyway.
They catch a cab to the center, during which they’re both relatively silent. Charlie’s hangover is waning, and maybe Olivia senses that, but it’s more likely that’s she’s building up her courage to ask him something. He’s gotten really good at reading her cues.
Like everything in Vegas, the plant is a cross between dazzling and gaudy. Unlike Chicago & Austin’s buildings which were one floor, Vegas’s is built up, at least fourteen stories. It has strange offshoots that make it resemble a very odd tree. The center structure looks too thin. Charlie doesn’t trust it to hold more than three or four people let alone four-hundred.
Inside, they’re pointed to the elevator. Lincoln is waiting on the top floor where the tour will start. As soon as the doors close and they are alone, Olivia whispers, “How’s the headache?”
“Gone,” he says with a smile. Olivia smiles back, and shifts in her stance and Charlie knows it must be ‘now or never’ time.
“So what’s the deal with you and Lincoln?” Olivia asks, and it highlights one of the biggest differences between her and Lincoln. Where Lincoln attempted to be coy about his interest in Charlie and Olivia’s relationship, Olivia prefers to just lay it all out there despite how uncomfortable it might make them both.
Charlie has options. He can evade this question with a simple “just because I like guys doesn’t mean I like every guy.” Knowing Olivia she wouldn’t fall for it. There’s also “we’re just partners,” which feels closest to the truth, but leaves a lot to answer for. Those are answers Charlie doesn’t have.
He’s been quiet for sometime, longer than should be. Olivia decides to elaborate. “You’re all he talks about when he’s drunk.”
It should be a lie because Lincoln doesn’t get drunk, but then again, how would Charlie ever know. Three beers and he can’t remember a thing after. There’s a part of him that wants to know more, what Lincoln could possibly be talking about, but he silences it. If Lincoln wanted to tell him those things, he would. Instead he shrugs his shoulders. Tells the truth.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Olivia frowns like it’s the wrong answer, like she’s the one being wronged. Charlie never regrets telling the truth, but right now, he can’t look her in the eye and he would really like out of this elevator.
“He loves Liv,” he adds. The not me goes unsaid but Olivia hears it anyway. He has a tendency to ramble when things get really uncomfortable. He realizes he’s just making it worse.
Olivia grabs his hand and the nerves inside him subside. “I think he loves you more.” He can see her looking at him out of the corner of his eyes. She squeezes his hand and he finally looks at her again. “It’s kind of sweet.”
She bumps his shoulder with hers, and it finally gets him to smile. He’s about ten seconds away from turning and pressing his lips against hers when the doors to the top floor open.
Before he can, everything goes to hell.
---
“My phone went dead,” Lincoln says, making tread marks in the grass outside as he takes three steps one way, two steps back, feet in front of where Charlie’s leaning against the building, fumbling with his cigarettes.
Lincoln grabs the lit cigarette out of Charlie’s hand before it can make it to his mouth. Lincoln doesn’t smoke. Lincoln doesn’t pace either. Now he’s pacing and smoking. If Charlie weren’t so rattled inside, he’d probably laugh.
“Lincoln.” Charlie says quietly, “It’s okay.”
It’s not okay, but it’s not Lincoln’s fault either. It was bound to happen eventually. Peter was still working for Fringe Division on his side and these centers were all about safe travel between universes. It made sense that they be put to use. It made sense that Peter, who was heading the project on his side, had heard the Vegas centers weren’t working in tandem and had flown out there to help fix them.
It was fated. It seemed everything between Peter and Olivia was. Still the look in her eyes when those elevator doors open, the way the smile fled her face at the sight of that baby strapped to Peter’s chest, it made Charlie believe that fate was a cruel bitch.
“She doesn’t need this. I didn’t need this,” Lincoln sighs, and Charlie knows it’s not the same as what Olivia went through, but Lincoln must have had his own hell this morning. “He looked so smug with his tailored pea coat and fancy shoes. If Henry hadn’t been there…” Lincoln trails off, and Charlie feels the anger pulse through his veins.
Lincoln hadn’t known Henry long, but for the first five months of his life, he had been the closest thing the kid had to a father. Losing Henry had hurt Lincoln just as much if not more than losing Liv.
Lincoln dies the cigarette out half way and eyes Charlie, who hasn’t said much since Olivia asked them nicely to give her and Peter some time alone.
“So much for all your big talk about teaching him a lesson,” Lincoln says.
Charlie thinks it’s meant as a joke – Lincoln’s attempt to cheer them both up, but Charlie’s head is in a dark place. He’s come to care about Olivia this past year and he’s always cared about Lincoln. Peter Bishop has hurt them both.
And here’s the thing: Normally, Charlie’s rational. He knows he cannot blame Peter for all of this. He followed his heart in the hopes of not hurting Olivia anymore than he already had. Liv and Peter loved each other and they wanted to make a safe and stable family for their son. For all Charlie’s jokes about punching Peter Bishop, the rational side of Charlie believes Peter did the right thing – as a father and a man.
However, at this moment, Charlie’s rational side has gone dormant and been replaced by blind emotion.
“You’re right,” Charlie says and he pushes himself off the wall and heads back inside.
He’s pretty sure once they’re in the elevator, Lincoln’s hissing things like “Charlie, I was just kidding,” “let’s go back outside” and “oh God they’re gonna fire you.” He can’t hear any of it.
He’s out of the elevator as soon as the doors open enough for him to slip through. Lincoln makes a grab for his shirt but misses. His walk has become more of a fast strut and Lincoln struggles to keep up, to stop him without drawing any attention to them. Always the diplomat.
Peter and Olivia are where they left them – huddled at a small table off to the side. Olivia spots him first, and they both stand up, Peter turning to face him.
There’s a speech on his lips – a really long one that’s been formulating since he met this Olivia , but one look at her and he’s sure that Olivia’s said everything that needs to be said. So he does the one thing Olivia can’t do. The one thing Lincoln wouldn’t. He pulls his fist back and knocks Peter Bishop out cold.
---
If you asked Charlie what happened next, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. His mind wakes up from the fog when he’s downstairs, leaning against the car. Olivia’s pacing this time. Lincoln’s staring at him with a mix of concern and awe.
He clears his throat and Olivia stops pacing to look at him.
Lincoln places a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Are you with us now?”
“Yeah.” His throat feels hoarse. He wonders if there had been yelling.
“You shouldn’t bottle all that anger up inside,” Lincoln says, a teasing grin working its way onto his face. “Rage blackouts are serious business.” Charlie opens his mouth to ask if Peter’s okay, but Lincoln cuts him off. “He’s fine. A couple stitches. I’m not sure he could press charges even if he wasn’t okay. Cross universe jurisdiction is kind of gray matter right now.”
“Somebody needed to hit him. You’re too polite and Olivia’s too nice,” Charlie says, his voice a little too defensive maybe, “So I did it.”
Lincoln nods. “You did say if you ever saw him again, you’d hit him. And you always keep your word.”
Olivia huffs in disbelief and Lincoln’s eyes narrow. “Don’t look at him like that, Olivia. He was defending your honor.”
“Maybe yours, Lincoln,” Olivia says, and the hand that was on Charlie’s shoulder slips away. Charlie holds back the sigh. There’s about a minute of quiet where they all just stare at their feet before Olivia breaks the silence. “I have to admit it was a good punch.”
“He didn’t even see it coming,” Lincoln says immediately, and for the guy who was trying his hardest to keep Charlie from making a scene, he seems pretty excited. “You hesitated like you were going to go into this big speech and then just – bam – you cold clocked him. It was brilliant.” Lincoln’s phone buzzes. He frowns at the sight “Ooh that’s not good. It’s Director Bishop.”
Lincoln turns away, and Charlie watches Lincoln climb into the driver’s seat of their car. He and Olivia are left alone.
“You really didn’t have to do that,” Olivia says.
“I know,” Charlie says, “We’re a team – you, me and Lincoln. We got to watch out for each other.”
The smile is finally back on her face. She places both hands on his shoulders, as she leans in and brushes her lips against his. “Thank you…I think.”
---
The jury’s still out on Charlie. According to Director Bishop, they’ll have an answer in the morning. Charlie doesn’t hold out much hope since he just knocked out the man’s son. Of course, they decide the best solution is to go gambling. Charlie and Olivia both nurse the same drink all night. Lincoln downs enough for the both of them and wanders off to flirt with the pretty ladies by the craps table.
It’s like a car crash. Olivia and Charlie can’t look away. Lincoln’s gorgeous, but he’s also a bit of a dork. His charm only goes over well with people who can reconcile those two facts. Olivia laughs, “Who does he think he’s kidding?”
“Himself,” Charlie says automatically, and his voice sounds a little too bitter. “Sorry,” he amends.
Olivia shakes her head like it’s nothing and smiles. “Most of my memories are pretty vague from my first time here, but I do remember you checking on him every night in that chamber.”
If Charlie blushed, his cheeks would be crimson right now. “Someone needed to make sure he was taking care of himself. He sure as hell wasn’t going to do it on his own.”
“Does he know?” Olivia asks.
“If he does, he’s not gonna mention it.”
Olivia reaches over the table and entwines their fingers together. “It must drive you insane.”
It does and it doesn’t. He wouldn’t have been in so many serious relationships if he didn’t crave commitment. Lincoln’s never given him that. He comes and goes, shows up at Charlie’s hotel room or apartment, whispering moment of insanity like that’s enough of an explanation. Charlie wakes up alone. Either Lincoln will be in the kitchen eating his breakfast or already at work. They never talk about it after.
“It is what it is,” he shrugs, “I’ve bounced from relationship to relationship since I was sixteen. None of them have made me happy for very long.”
“He makes you happy,” Olivia concludes.
“I haven’t slept with him since you got here,” he says, and he hopes she’ll hear you make me happy too in that because he can’t choose between them anymore. He groans. “My head hurts.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” Olivia says quietly, “I feel comfortable and at home here and that’s all because of you and Lincoln. I never thought I’d be able to trust again after Peter, but I do. I trust you both with my life. I like things the way they are, and I wouldn’t change anything.” She lets out a little laugh before continuing, “I think it makes us unique – stronger, maybe.”
“Stronger,” Charlie repeats. He wonders whether an emotional bond between partners was really a good idea. He saw how much Peter and Liv’s betrayal had hurt Olivia and Lincoln. But then, he’s not Peter or Liv.
He doesn’t walk away. Neither do Olivia or Lincoln.
---
They don’t stay downstairs much longer. Somehow watching Lincoln strike out with women loses its appeal quickly. Charlie walks Olivia to her room. The edges of her smile aren’t as bright as they should be and Charlie can recognize the sadness creeping into her demeanor. He offers to sit with her awhile, but she declines. It’s been a long day and the finality of her relationship with Peter is beginning to set in. He understands that need to be alone – been there far too many times.
He spends a little time watching TV before he wanders into the bedroom of his suite. It’s still early, but his knuckles are sore and his head still hurts from earlier. Vegas is all sounds and lights, an assault on his senses, and his mind is already filled with too many worries – about his job, about Olivia, about Lincoln.
He barely has his eyes closed when he hears the door to his suite open. His first instinct is to reach for his gun, but before he can, Lincoln is already lingering in the doorway. Charlie blinks a few times at the sight.
“Hi,” Lincoln says shyly.
“Hey,” Charlie replies, his voice hoarse from having not spoken in awhile.
Lincoln sits on the bed, his back turned. He removes both his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, but doesn’t undress any further. Charlie watches as he rubs at his eyes, listens closely so that he can hear the deep exhale, before Lincoln pulls himself onto the bed. He lies on his back, hands folded over his stomach.
The bed is huge and Lincoln feels too far away. Without thinking much about it, Charlie reaches over, clasps his hand around Lincoln’s wrist and tugs. Lincoln moves quickly, rolls over and curls himself into Charlie’s side, head and hand resting on Charlie’s chest right above his heart.
“Why don’t you like vacations?” Lincoln asks suddenly and Charlie tries to keep his heart rate steady at the thought, knows that Lincoln will hear the slightest change and call him on it.
Lincoln realized about three hours after meeting Charlie that he didn’t like vacations. He teases him about it, but he’s never asked why and Charlie has always been grateful. Mostly because he knew about three hours after meeting Lincoln that it would be impossible to deny him anything.
“We used to take them every summer, at least that’s what my mom would call it. She, Eddie and I would head up the Coast towards Boston. She had family there.”
The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them and now he’s caught. He feels the subtle shift of Lincoln’s head on his chest, knows those eyes are on him now and so he has to close his own if he’s ever going to continue. When he closes them, he’s there again, trying his best not to look out the back window, afraid he’d see that ugly turquoise pick-up truck, those dark empty eyes.
“We never actually made it to Boston. Dad always caught up. Every summer, he’d find us and drag us back home. Ten straight years he beat the shit out of my mom for pulling that stunt. And then one day, he finally got tired of us all and left.”
Charlie pauses now, a sense of panic flooding him. This is a secret he’s never shared with anyone, always running from the fear that one day he’d look in the mirror and see those same dead eyes staring back at him. Afraid if he shared those dark parts of his childhood with anyone, they’d see him as the frightened little boy always looking for an escape.
When he speaks again, he finds his voice is stronger than he expected. “I don’t like long car rides and I hate hotel rooms and I haven’t been back down Route 1 since I was seventeen and I got out of Miami.”
It gets quiet then and Charlie can hear Lincoln’s heavy breathing too clearly, can feel the tears dampening his shirt. Charlie pulls him closer, squeezes the shoulder his arm has curled around.
“Why didn’t you tell Olivia? Her stepfather –” Lincoln trails off, unsure how to finish the thought, how to repeat the terrible things that Olivia had told them.
Lincoln comes from a well adjusted family, from a father who loved his mother, who loved all his kids. Lincoln grew up happy, maybe a little stifled, but not scarred like Charlie was – inside and out. It’s hard for Lincoln to understand why Charlie would tell him this when he’s got no insight to give.
That’s never been the point.
“I wanted to tell you,” Charlie says, stressing that last word in the hopes that maybe Lincoln will get it.
From the way Lincoln’s eyes flash wide at the words, Charlie thinks he does. Lincoln pulls himself up so that he can kiss Charlie. The first kiss is just a press of lips, but when Charlie pulls back, Lincoln chases his mouth, curls his hand around the back of Charlie’s neck so he can keep him close.
It’s Lincoln’s touch, the way it can straddle the line between uncertain and determined. It’s the way his mouth always lingers centimeters from Charlie’s when they break their kisses so that he can feel the warm puff of breath against his lips. These things make him feel whole.
Lincoln smiles, a little unsure, before he lies back down.
There’s quiet again, but as relieved as he feels, Charlie knows that something is weighing on Lincoln, words waiting on his lips.
“It was easy to love Liv. She was never going to love me back,” Lincoln whispers, and then, his voice is so quiet that Charlie strains to hear the next words out of his mouth. “It’s kind of terrifying when they love you back.”
To the untrained ear, it sounds like a non-sequitur, but the truth is they’re both sharing shame here.
Charlie turns and brushes his lips against the top of Lincoln’s head. He hopes the gesture conveys enough. His chest is tight and his mind is bogged down by too many emotions. He cannot trust his words.
Lincoln sighs, clings tighter to Charlie, and it feels wonderful, just lying there watching the flickering of Vegas lights through the shade on the window across from them. He knows it won’t last long. Lincoln cannot stay quiet for long.
Sure enough as soon as the thought passes Charlie’s mind, Lincoln pokes at Charlie’s ribs, “So Olivia’s willing to share you, right? Because I kind of got that vibe.”
Charlie laughs, “You were here first.”
“So I get dibs?” Lincoln says. His index finger skims Charlie’s chest, makes random patterns as it goes. "She'll be good for you."
Charlie smiles, a soft upturn of his lips. "Keep me in line?"
"Make you happy.” Lincoln presses his lips to the Charlie’s chest, over the skin he’s been tracing. "Maybe someday I won't be such an idiot."
“Don’t worry,” Charlie whispers, “I like you just the way you are.”
---
vii.
Charlie was four the last time he slept so soundly. He was headed on his first vacation.
His psyche is an easy read like that.
He stirs at the sound of Lincoln's voice, but when he opens his eyes it's Olivia's hip he's staring at. Before he can ask how she got in here, not that he doesn't know, she gestures to Lincoln, who paces the floor in front of them with his phone glued to his ear. Charlie could focus on what he's saying but he'd prefer to stare at the mark he left on Lincoln's neck, the one that's just visible above the collar of his shirt.
Lincoln's never let him leave marks before. Charlie's trying not to read too much into it. Baby steps.
Olivia nudges him with her elbow and gives him a thumbs up and they both giggle - a sound that's foreign coming from either them.
Lincoln hangs up and informs Charlie that he got off easy (to which Olivia giggle's again and Lincoln turns a brilliant shade of red). Anger management classes. Counseling. Two weeks mandatory leave of absence.
Three weeks ago when this trip began, Charlie would have groaned at the thought of two more weeks of vacation.
But Olivia promises to come over on her lunch break and watch Jerry Springer with him, and Lincoln says he'll cook him dinner every other night, and Charlie thinks he'll be fine.
Happy, even.
charlie francis. olivia/alt!charlie/alt!lincoln. alt!charlie/OCs
the story of Charlie Francis unravels over his most hated pastime (or proof that happiness is not as cookie cutter as one would believe).
9,657 words. pg-13
A/N: Written for
vacationthon. primarycolors92 asked for forced vacations, slight to medium angst & visiting families. My alt!Charlie Francis muse was more than happy to comply. Title taken from the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ song because it played on repeat while I wrote most of it. Thank you also to my lovely beta. i.
Charlie Francis was four the last time he slept through the night.
It was the night before the first vacation he ever took. They were headed to Boston, towards the land of snow. Of course it was summer so there wouldn’t be any snow, but Charlie was too young to accept that fact though it was repeated over and over to him by his mother and brother. Charlie lived in Miami where it was warm all year round and every person who passed through thought the people were blessed for it. He longed for something different. Something pure.
They never make it to Boston and after that, Charlie suffers scarred and restless nights in the blistering heat of Miami.
One man’s heaven is another man’s hell.
ii.
Charlie knows who Lincoln is before he ever meets him. His name is legendary – the Department of Defense’s golden child. Every team member that Charlie’s had since Lincoln’s arrival has whispered Lincoln’s name either reverently or jealously. He sits on a pedestal made from hype - untouchable. So when Lincoln gets assigned as Charlie’s partner, Charlie expects a smug, arrogant know-it-all who will see Charlie as nothing more than a stepping stone to a better career.
What he gets is Lincoln – humble leader, big dork and fiercely loyal friend all wrapped into one.
Charlie also knows who Olivia is before he meets her. She is the villain, the impostor. They’re supposed to fear her. Of course when she joins their Team, he is not surprised to find there aren’t many people in the world he’ll be able to trust more.
The thing about Charlie: he only needs to be taught once in order to learn his lesson.
---
When his father left, Charlie’s mother didn’t speak for days. She was waiting for him to come back. When a week passed and he was still gone, she sat both her sons down.
“Don’t settle for anything that doesn’t make you happy,” she said.
Now, Eddie, Charlie’s older brother, has been married for fifteen years to the same woman. They share hobbies and dreams and they even finish each other’s sentences. Eddie smiles a lot whenever he talks about her. Eddie smiles a lot, period. He’s happy.
Charlie – well – Charlie’s still working on it.
This is the exception that proves the rule.
More often than it should.
---
iii.
Olivia lives on the tenth floor of her building and of course the elevator is out. This is a great omen for their trip and Charlie tells Lincoln and Olivia that at least twice as they haul her suitcase, which is obviously lined with cement, down ten flights of stairs. It's only after he swears for the third time in a language other than English that Olivia says anything.
"What's wrong with Charlie?" She asks Lincoln because Charlie is too busy muttering in Spanish or possibly Mandarin.
"Charlie hates vacations," Lincoln says and Charlie almost fumbles the luggage.
"I do not hate vacations," he says, but the words come too quick and squeezed together to be taken as truth so he switches points. "And this isn't a vacation. It's a cross country business trip."
"You're the only one calling it that," Lincoln counters as they make it through another flight. He's helping Charlie with Olivia's suitcase, which is the size of a two-seater couch and might weigh just as much. Charlie considers pushing forward a little and sending Lincoln tumbling down the next flight, but decides not to. They have three more flights to go and it's not worth having to lug this thing by himself.
Instead he sighs. "It's a bonding experience forced on us by Fake Broyles-"
Olivia cuts him off with a click of her tongue. "Don't call him that."
"Sorry." He's not. Usually he does a better job of hiding it though.
Lincoln laughs. "Don't be too hard on him, Olivia. Vacations make him testy."
Charlie reconsiders his earlier decision not to send Lincoln flying down the stairs. Maybe Olivia senses this because she lays a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. "It's gonna be fun."
To make up for the Broyles comment, he confines the whining to his head.
For now.
---
Forced vacations were for agents who lost family members or who had just done something unthinkable but necessary, like shot a dangerous kid or ambered a half a town. People on the edge of mental breakdowns. That sort of thing.
They had just saved not one, but two worlds. No one had died in the process. All in all it was considered a good day. Logically, there was no need for an emotional time-out. Except apparently Fake Broyles and Director Bishop both thought it was necessary that the three of them take a breather to collect their thoughts now that their Liv had decided to stay in the other universe so she could shack up with Director Bishop’s son and their baby. In turn, the Olivia they had been working with chose to keep working in this universe, which Charlie can’t blame her for. If he ever meets Peter Bishop in person, he will definitely punch him twice, once for each Olivia Dunham.
Olivia’s still trying to wrap her head around losing, finding and then losing Peter.
Lincoln is also distraught. Because he’s convinced himself that Liv was the love of his life and he’ll never find anyone like her again. Or at least that’s what Charlie’s heard. It’s about the only thing Lincoln won’t talk about.
Charlie…well, Charlie’s fine. The truth is he learned to roll with the punches when he was a kid, and it’s the kind of thing that doesn’t abandon you easy. But he’s also part of a team and that means everything. So when Fake Broyles and Director Bishop say that they all need a vacation, he pretends like he’s just as burned out as Lincoln and Olivia.
Then, Fake Broyles and Director Bishop start talking about ‘cohesion’ and ‘trust,’ and the fact that the crossover centers in Illinois, Nevada and Texas are near completion. Suddenly two weeks sitting on the couch watching Jerry Springer re-runs has become three weeks trekking around the country for work.
“You’ll just take a tour, answer any questions they might have. The rest of the time you can spend doing whatever your want,” Fake Broyles says.
Charlie believes the expression is kill two birds with one stone.
The truth is he hates badly hidden agendas just as much as he hates vacations.
---
Charlie cheers up a bit once they finally get out of the city. He’s lived in the state of New York for most of his adult life, but he never realized how much of it is open space and forest. Nature at its best. Just the sight of it makes him smile. He’s a city boy, wouldn’t last a minute out here.
He tells Olivia this. She laughs and admits it’s the same for her. She was a military brat which means she moved around a lot. She swears by living in the suburbs.
Lincoln’s hands clench the steering wheel a little harder but he laughs with them, makes a few harmless taunts at both of them. If Charlie didn’t know him so well, he wouldn’t notice his discomfort.
Lincoln grew up on a farm in this area. He gets a little twitchy whenever someone mentions it, like the wilderness might swallow him back whole if he admits it’s the truth. He left at seventeen, joined the early track for the Department of Defense and never looked back.
Charlie met Lincoln’s parents once and they seemed perfect. Smiled in all the right places and wore their pride on their sleeve for having such an amazing son. Maybe they were a little old fashioned – technology phobic, as Lincoln would say, but most of the rural population still was. They were harmless.
Why Lincoln would run from that he’ll never know.
---
iv.
It’s a 14 hour trip from New York to Chicago.
At least it should be. They make it in twelve because Lincoln is insane. He uses his phone to coordinate a quickest route, the type of thing that updates itself every fifteen minutes. Charlie doesn’t understand why it’s so important to Lincoln that they get their early, but he thinks it has little to do with arriving and more to do with Lincoln obsession with efficiency.
The Chicago center is behind schedule, so they spend the next three days sight seeing. Olivia keeps telling them this Chicago is exactly like the other one. There’s so much relief in her voice that it makes Charlie wonder just how different two worlds filled with the same people can be.
Day one, she drags them by the hand to some art museum where Lincoln listens intently as she explains what’s different. Later they pour over art history books, trying to brainstorm as to why Starry Night would have a red sky instead of blue or why American Gothic is missing the pitchfork. Charlie leaves his two favorite nerds in Olivia’s hotel room and hits Rush Street on his own that night.
The second day they wake him up God awful early so they can get to the Aquarium before peak hours. He really doesn’t mind once they get there. He will never admit this out loud, but he has a soft spot for penguins, which Olivia seems to sense because it’s the first place she drags him to. Her arm is tucked around his elbow and his hands are shoved in his pocket because he might do something stupid with them, like brush that wandering piece of blonde hair out of her face because it kind of feels right to do so. It gets less awkward when Lincoln returns from wherever he’s wandered off to, slings and arm over both their shoulders and tells them what he’s just discovered about seals.
The next day, they discover the city from inside out, every little place that Lincoln or Charlie has ever read about, then walk the Pier and see a Shakespeare show. Olivia gasps at the end of Hamlet, whispers in Charlie’s ear, that’s not the way it goes and Charlie laughs so loud that they almost get kicked out.
---
On the fourth day, Charlie wakes up late, his head aching and his throat dry. After Shakespeare, they hit Rush Street together, met all the friends Charlie had made the night before. He remembers very little, except that Lincoln as usual egged him on, matching him drink for drink, knowing it wouldn’t affect him and that Charlie, after almost eight years working and drinking together, still wouldn’t back down from the challenge.
Lincoln doesn’t look up from whatever he’s reading on his phone but he sort of nods his head in the direction of the coffee he brought. Charlie doesn’t bother asking how Lincoln got in his room. It was probably illegal, and even if it wasn’t, he’s grateful for the coffee. It’s still piping hot and smells like heaven. Charlie’s pretty sure he whispers ‘I love you’ to the cup which makes Lincoln roll his eyes but smile anyways like the words were meant for him.
“Olivia got a head start checking out the center.”
Charlie rubs his eyes as he sits back down on the edge of the bed. “How’d she manage that?”
“She’s not a light weight like some people.” Lincoln barely gets the words out before Charlie’s chucking a pillow at his face and muttering obscenities.
“Why didn’t you go with her?” Charlie asks, as he rifles through the duffle bag at his feet looking for some clean clothes. Maybe Olivia was right to have packed as much as she did.
Lincoln stays silent, a rare feat seeing as he always has an answer, even to things that go unasked. Charlie looks up, a little worried, but Lincoln just shrugs his shoulders, a little too casual.
“Who would have brought you your coffee then?”
Charlie ruffles Lincoln’s hair as he passes him on the way to the bathroom.
---
The Chicago center looks different than the original blueprint they’d been shown. It’s mostly one level, a lot of white walls and low ceilings and twitching lights. All of the agents wear the same white jumpsuits and smile wide at their guests. It’s like something out of an old sci fi thriller.
As soon as they reach the Control Center, it’s easy to find Olivia, her black pantsuit like a target hovering somewhere in the far left corner of the room. She’s smiling, laughing at something the guy beside her said. Charlie knows him well.
In between Wife One and Wife Two, there was John Scott, the on again off again boyfriend for two years. It was the type of relationship that lingered between serious and not serious enough, until John got the job in Chicago and they discovered neither of them was cut out for the long distance thing. They parted on good terms.
Because they both still work for the Department of Defense, they cross paths every once and a while. Every time they do, Charlie is reminded why he and John lingered on for so long. John has a certain appeal, a charisma that tugs at you, makes you fall fast and then leaves you weak and vulnerable, sure that you will be making a mistake if you let him go. It’s dangerous. It’s probably what made him such a good undercover operative.
He feels a little clench in his stomach seeing John with Olivia, not sure who it’s directed towards. He doesn’t dwell on it.
“You’re kidding me?” Lincoln’s voice barely contains its frustration.
Lincoln’s hatred of John goes way back to before he and Charlie started working together. It was when Lincoln started training with the Department of Defense and was assigned to John’s team, back when Charlie had worked four floors up in non-bioterrorism and only knew of Lincoln as the annoying little smartass who was making John’s life hell. Charlie was, and still is impressed. John has the patience of a saint.
John said Lincoln hated him because he couldn’t work well with authority figures. Lincoln said it had to do with John being a compulsive liar. It must have fallen somewhere in between.
When Lincoln and Charlie started working together and he eventually found out that Charlie was the Charlie, it only made matters worse. A string of unfinished thoughts like “how could you…” and “he’s such a…” stuttered past Lincoln’s lips whenever the guy’s name was mentioned. Then he flushed red, bottling up all that frustration and dropped the whole subject.
The minute John spots them he smiles, warm and open like he only ever does around his family. Charlie feels that familiar ache when he smiles back. When he sneaks a glance at Lincoln, it looks like he wants to vomit.
“Charles,” John says, and he’s the only person who can get away with calling Charlie by his real name. Before Charlie can say anything he’s pulled into a hug, the type that lingers too long to be just friendly. It probably doesn’t help that Charlie makes sure to inhale deeply, breathing in the scent of him, hoping it won’t leave him again.
When they part, John’s still smiling. It goes fake and stale the minute he spots Lincoln smirking beside them. “Agent Lee.”
Lincoln smiles, too gleeful at John’s sudden mood change. “Agent Scott. This is a lovely little place you’ve got here.” He emphasizes the word ‘little’ with a quirk of his lips, and John’s eyes are twitching to keep from narrowing.
“Thank you. It’s one of my many operations.”
Before Lincoln can say whatever barely covert stinging retort he has on his lips, Charlie cuts in. “I see you’ve met Olivia.”
John claps Charlie on the shoulder, a silent thankful gesture. “I have. What an amazing woman, this one is.”
Olivia looks both shaken and amused by what’s just taken place, eyes darting between the three of them as if she’s trying to process what’s just happened. She manages a smile.
The rest of the tour is uneventful. John does an amazing job of ignoring all the barbs Lincoln throws his way. Charlie does just as good of a job diffusing the situation. Olivia is quiet, which Charlie expects.
It shocks everyone. He’s not one for giving power to stereotypes, but the truth is he doesn’t come across as bisexual. It’s not as though he hides it, but he doesn’t exactly talk about it either. He doesn’t talk about his personal life at all.
As far as family went, his kids never knew any different and his wives, they had both known from day one. His mother was fine with it after the shock set in, probably because Charlie had already given her a grandchild and John spoke fluent Spanish, something neither of her sons took the time to learn.
Charlie’s brother was another story. For two years, Eddie didn’t speak to him, and their relationship only found its way back on track once Charlie married his second wife and Eddie could pretend the whole John thing was some sort of experiment gone wrong. Charlie knows that he should be offended, part of him probably is, but Eddie’s family and there’s already complicated history there. He’ll take what he can get.
Olivia’s silence drags on, lingering until Lincoln’s run out of insults for John, and Charlie has a dull headache forming from having to defend his ex. It drags until Charlie’s eyes meet hers in the passenger side mirror and they all realize Lincoln hasn’t moved the car.
Olivia clears her throat. “So you and John.” She stops, teeth pressed against the bottom of her lip as she thinks of a way to finish it.
Lincoln laughs. "You'll soon find Charlie has left a string of broken hearts across this great land." Charlie wants to object. It’s the exact opposite. Men and women more than often leave him. They describe him as withdrawn and lacking commitment. Two marriages and a live-in boyfriend before thirty-five say otherwise, in his book, but seeing as enough people have mentioned it, he’s obviously missing something.
He lets out a little burst of laughter at Lincoln’s assessment. "Yeah that's me - a heartbreaker." Sarcasm drips from his words and he glances back at Olivia hoping she’ll be smiling, but she’s still lost in her thoughts, small frown gracing her lips. It makes his stomach go cold. "Is this gonna be a problem?"
She looks up at him, caught off guard by the question. "Hmm?"
"He means because he likes men. Sometimes." Lincoln says. Charlie isn’t going to tell him the addendum is wrong and that he likes men all the time, just like he likes women all the time too. It’s too preachy, often proves to be a little confusing and would just serve to get them off topic.
There’s an edge to Lincoln’s voice. For all the ribbing he gives Charlie about dating John, Lincoln has stood by Charlie through every misguided relationship. Charlie may not talk about his personal life or broadcast that he sees men, but Lincoln’s always known.
Olivia scoffs. "Please. I figured that out the first time I was here."
Charlie wonders if it's really that obvious or if Olivia's just that observant. It's probably a little of both.
"Then why do you look like you want to vomit?" Lincoln asks.
Olivia scratches the back of her head, eyes suddenly keen to avoid everyone and then mumbles, "I was engaged to the other John Scott."
Charlie's first reaction is to laugh, but the sound never finds its way out of his throat. The shock leaves it frozen somewhere inside him. He purses his lips tightly so that he can keep from saying anything, not that he'd know what to say.
"Oh." Lincoln sums it up neatly and then when it looks like no one would care to elaborate, he puts the car in drive and they go a few minutes without incident. There's a tense silence that lingers over them which is obviously something Charlie and Olivia can handle better than Lincoln, who glances nervously between the two of them before finally blurting out. "Can I just say something?"
Charlie is tempted to say no, but Olivia speaks before he can say anything, "Go ahead."
He pauses and bites his lip as if he’s actually going to filter his thoughts. And then, "You both have terrible taste in men."
Olivia laughs as soon as the words are out of his mouth, almost as if she was expecting it.
"You think so?" Charlie says with a quirk of his lips that only Lincoln can see.
Lincoln ignores the suggestion, ignores Charlie all together, and continues to talk, making eye contact with Olivia through the rearview mirror. "Now as for women, Charlie has fantastic taste in women. His first wife is stacked. I'm pretty sure she could have been a model. And she's smart too. Owns her own business. The other one's not bad either."
"My second wife hates Lincoln." Charlie explains.
"Your second wife hates everyone.” Lincoln gets this glint in his eye like Charlie’s unknowingly paved the way for a conversation he’s going to regret. “But I'm glad you mentioned her because we had the most fascinating conversation yesterday evening."
"Why are you calling his ex-wife?" Olivia asks without really expecting Lincoln to acknowledge it. When he gets on a roll, he’s impossible to stop.
"Did you know that Lauren's prom is tomorrow night?" Lincoln asks.
"Yeah,” Charlie says, eyes narrowing. “Why?"
"Who's Lauren?" Olivia asks and this time Charlie takes the time to answer her.
"My daughter."
"You have a daughter?"
Charlie laughs a little at the disbelief in her voice. "Two of them. One from each wife."
"And they live in side by side houses in Valhalla, Texas which is about thirty minutes from where we're headed next,” Lincoln says, “It’s a sign, you know. The fates have aligned so that you can see your daughter off to prom and scare what ever poor soul agreed to be her date with your sidearm.”
“It’s Texas. I doubt you could find a boy who’s scared of a gun,” Charlie says.
---
v.
Lincoln’s complex and weirdly accurate phone estimates it will take them 20 hours to get to Texas, which meant if they were going to make Lauren’s prom, they had to leave right after the tour of the Chicago factory. Lincoln’s obviously planned for this because all of their bags were conveniently packed in the back of the SUV when neither Olivia nor Charlie was looking.
They go thirteen hours before they have to stop at some ragtag motel so Lincoln can get some shut eye (God forbid anyone else be allowed to drive). They only get one room, pointedly ignoring the raised eyebrow from the clerk at the front desk. Lincoln collapses on the first bed and is asleep before they can say anything. Charlie naturally gives Olivia the second bed and takes the couch.
He doesn’t sleep at all – too much nervous and excited energy pulsing through his veins. He had been debating whether or not to see his girls since they started this trip. They moved here three years ago, after his youngest, Rose, almost got ambered. Texas had the lease Fringe events per square mile. Since then his relationship with them has been solid, but between his job and their hectic schedules, he didn’t get to see them as often as he liked. They spoke every day, by phone or video chat, but it wasn’t the same.
Work, it seemed, was the only way he got a chance to visit his girls in Valhalla. Whenever he had a job in Texas, Lincoln would convince him to stop by, even if it was only for a few minutes before a flight. It was always a surprise for them. They’d both light up like Christmas trees when they saw him, babbling a mile a minute about anything they could think of. In the end, it was bittersweet. Holding them close, seeing their smile and hearing their laugh in person made everything else pale in comparison, all those phone conversations and video chats meaningless.
He’s so wrapped up in his own thoughts and worries that it takes him awhile to realize he’s not the only one awake. He watches as Olivia shifts in her bed, rolling from one side only to flip back after a few minutes.
“Olivia?”
Olivia curls into herself so that her face can better make out Charlie’s in the dark. Her voice is groggy but firm, “Yeah, Charlie.”
Charlie fiddles with the hem of his blanket. There’s a loose thread there that he can’t stop pulling at. He doesn’t know quite how to say what he wants to, so he just blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “They never met her.”
Olivia is quiet and he thinks he should elaborate. He counts three breaths before she lets out a huff of a laugh. “Is that your nice way of asking me to meet your family?”
Charlie sighs. “Yes.”
Olivia laughs again. “Alright then.”
They both fall asleep soon after.
---
Valhalla, Texas has a population of 1,656 and is known for being one of the sixteen cities in the United States that still mines zinc. The town is split pretty much in half by the Colorado River.
Olivia has never heard of Valhalla. Of course, if she had a map of the Texas she grew up with, the land of Valhalla would be split between Marble Falls and Meadow Lakes, 35 miles outside of Austin.
It’s strange – she whispers to him as they approach the house, her arm curled in his. Her father grew up in Austin, and when he died, Olivia remembers driving back there for a memorial mass. She couldn’t have been more than five, but the sights and sounds of that journey through Texas are etched into her memory. She passed through this land in her world. It looks so similar, so different from this other world she’s been thrust into.
It makes Charlie smile – knowing that his daughters are growing up in a place that resembles a world that’s so whole.
---
Charlie’s exes are amused by Olivia’s presence, maybe because she spends most of her time glued to Charlie’s side, afraid to say anything that would give her away. His girls react to their presence in different ways. Rose, the little one, soaks up the attention like it’s a rare gift. He can already tell once she’s old enough she won’t stay long in a quiet place like this.
Lauren is quiet, granted he doesn’t see her a lot. She’s busy getting ready, but when she gets a few minutes to sit with them, she spends most of it studying Olivia, like she’s looking for some sort of hidden agenda. Before she heads off to prom, she pulls Charlie aside and tells him she approves of Olivia, but that she’ll always like Lincoln best.
And as it turns out, Lauren’s date is a boy she knew when they lived in New York and he is a little put off by their sidearms.
All in all, Charlie calls this a win.
---
The Texas plant is a carbon copy of the one in Chicago. The only difference is the workers there actually wear colors and are star struck by their appearance. Lincoln takes to it like a plant in sunshine. The attention just makes Charlie uncomfortable.
When Olivia jerks her head towards the exit, he breathes a sigh of relief. They wander towards the smokers’ pavilion. He lights up out of habit and Olivia watches him curiously.
It’s easy to forget that she knew a version of him too. Where someone at the Department is always mentioning the loss of the other Olivia to the other side, Olivia has only mentioned once that she knew another Charlie and then her voice was so far away that Charlie didn’t know how to ask more.
Times like this remind him. The other Charlie never smoked. He probably didn’t have kids either judging from earlier. Or two wives. Or drink his coffee with no cream and two sugars.
Charlie looks up and Olivia takes a deep breath and he knows where this is going before she even starts to speak – knows her so well sometimes that it scares him.
“He was married for twenty years to a woman named Sonya who used to bring me chicken noodle soup when I was sick because her husband was worried but didn’t know how to show it. They didn’t have any kids but they wanted them. His father died when he was three. He got seasick and hated long plane rides, but he never let it affect his work. He was Agent Broyles’ right hand man. Someday he was gonna be all of our bosses, but he never let it show. He had the best poker face, told the funniest jokes, and never let you down.”
Charlie soaks in the information and processes it just as fast. He picks up on all the things she doesn’t say, on the past tense and the melancholy nostalgia of her voice. “How did he die?”
“A shapeshifter killed him,” she says, and then she laughs, jarringly, “And then I killed the shapeshifter. I know that’s the truth, but it still feels like I looked Charlie in the eye and shot him in the head.”
There’s another laugh, but it’s cruel and taunting, and it melts into tears as soon as it dies down. Charlie is there then, dying his cigarette out and pulling her into a tight embrace, one arm curled around her shoulders and the other hooking up her back. He can feel the tears soaking his t-shirt and the dull dig of her fingernails against his back as she clutches there.
For a moment, he lets her pretend this is the other Charlie Francis and that she can absolve herself of some perceived sin against him. He waits for her grip to loosen and her tears to slow before he speaks.
“I like boats. I don’t think I’ll ever be anyone’s boss. And as far as I know, my father’s still alive.” He pulls back and she’s looking at him through different eyes now. He smiles slightly. “I’m not him.”
“I know that,” she says.
“You’re not her either,” he adds.
“I know that too,” she wipes at her eyes, “It’s just sometimes…”
She shrugs her shoulders like there’s no way to explain it, but he gets it.
“I know.” They both lean against the stone wall, shoulders brushing and hips bumping, pointedly ignoring the workers on break a few yards ahead who are still curious about the scene they just witnessed. He lights up another cigarette and she doesn’t watch him so closely this time.
Once he’s done and the gawkers have vanished, she elbows him lightly in the side to get his attention. She’s got a small smile on her face. “You do have a pretty mean poker face too though.”
“I do.” Charlie grins. “And just think – Vegas is next.”
---
vi.
The stretch of road between Texas and Nevada blurs together, and there is a thrum of anticipation lingering between all three of them. What happens in Vegas – the saying’s available in every universe.
Lincoln keeps glancing his way, like it’s taking everything in his power to filter his thoughts. Things are shifting. It’s subtle but they both feel it. Eventually it will have to be addressed.
Lincoln waits until they’re driving through a Nevada desert and Olivia is fast asleep in the backseat. Charlie knows it’s coming before it happens. Lincoln flexes his fingers on the steering wheel twice and between each time he checks his rearview mirror to be sure Olivia is asleep.
“You and I haven’t talked in awhile.”
Charlie laughs. “You’ve talked plenty. In fact, you never stop talking.” He feels a little bad when he sees Lincoln frown. Whenever he frowns he sort of resembles a lost puppy. He looks nervous too. Definitely uncomfortable – something Lincoln rarely shows so openly. Charlie is serious now. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing.” Lincoln’s voice is too quiet and lacking emotion to be taking seriously. Charlie doesn’t push it though. He knows Lincoln needs to lead this conversation. So he waits. He counts three songs before Lincoln speaks again, two country hits and something in French – he’ll never get used to Lincoln’s CD mixes. When the violin on the third dies down, Lincoln speaks, trying too hard to be casual. “You and Olivia seem awfully close.”
Charlie does not laugh, though he knows it’s probably acceptable in this situation. “Subtlety is not your strong suit.” When Lincoln doesn’t respond, Charlie decides they’re going to have to have this conversation sooner or later. Might as well now. “I like her.”
“I like her too.” Lincoln says a little too quickly.
This time Charlie does laugh. “I like you more. Is that what you need to hear?”
“Don’t be absurd,” Lincoln says. There’s a twenty second pause where an inappropriate for the moment techno beat fills the car and then, “But for the record –”
“I like you more,” Charlie says succinctly. Lincoln grins from ear to ear.
The conversation ends there.
---
They have this thing – Lincoln likes to call it a moment of insanity
Its roots are in Vegas. Charlie was fresh off his second divorce and sure that this was it. Of course Lincoln reminded him gently, that he probably said that after the first wife and after John. His face had puckered around the name and Charlie had laughed and mused aloud that maybe he should go back to men. Lincoln grabbed at his wrist then and asked, too quietly, if John wasn’t the only one.
Charlie saw it then – the hope trying to hide under a mask of curiousness, the slight blush working its way up from under his collar and maybe he saw the reason Lincoln left the middle of nowhere so many years ago.
“No,” Charlie said, and he downed another shot to hide from Lincoln’s narrowing eyes.
Charlie was a little drunk so he wasn’t fast enough to realize what was coming next. Lincoln’s hold on Charlie’s wrist had turned into a sort of caress as he processed the turn of events, thumb idly rubbing over his pulse point causing a barely audible catch of breath from Charlie, who was constantly afraid of losing this sort of intimacy. At the sound, Lincoln’s hand slowly slid up his arm, up his neck, coming to cup the back of Charlie’s head, pulling him into a kiss. It was one of Lincoln’s smoother moves.
When they broke apart, Charlie laughed a little. “You are playing with fire, kid.”
And yet, in the end, it’s always Charlie though who gets burned.
---
They arrive in the city right around noon. The Department has arranged that they stay in one of the fanciest hotels in Vegas, right on the strip. The Fringe badges get them bumped to one of the top floors. It only has three suites, one for each of them. They’re given enough alcohol on the floor to serve a whole football team and a credit line large enough to put both Charlie’s kids through college. They all decide to get the Vegas plant out of the way as quickly as possible.
But the powers that be keep Lincoln on the phone all afternoon, and they delay their tour until further notice. Charlie’s not sure how they spend their first night. The last thing he remembers is black jack and free shots of tequila. He wakes up in his own bed (blessing) with a headache the size of Texas (curse).
He showers, which in hindsight is a stupid idea. The whole time he keeps worrying he will tip over or pass out and crack his head open on this gold plated tub. Needless to say, it’s probably the fastest shower he ever takes (and he once pulled undercover work in prison). When he’s finished getting dressed, he checks his phone and finds a text from Lincoln.
Commandeered the SUV to help fix the Vegas plant. Meet me here at 2. Sorry there’s no coffee.
His eyes flicker to the phone’s clock. 1:15PM. A text from Olivia appears as he’s deleting Lincoln’s:
If you’re up now, I have hot coffee.
He rushes to the door and sure enough as soon as it opens, Olivia’s waiting there, handing him a coffee before he can say a word. The ‘thank you’ gets lost in the warm liquid when his lips touch the rim, but Olivia nods like she heard it anyway.
They catch a cab to the center, during which they’re both relatively silent. Charlie’s hangover is waning, and maybe Olivia senses that, but it’s more likely that’s she’s building up her courage to ask him something. He’s gotten really good at reading her cues.
Like everything in Vegas, the plant is a cross between dazzling and gaudy. Unlike Chicago & Austin’s buildings which were one floor, Vegas’s is built up, at least fourteen stories. It has strange offshoots that make it resemble a very odd tree. The center structure looks too thin. Charlie doesn’t trust it to hold more than three or four people let alone four-hundred.
Inside, they’re pointed to the elevator. Lincoln is waiting on the top floor where the tour will start. As soon as the doors close and they are alone, Olivia whispers, “How’s the headache?”
“Gone,” he says with a smile. Olivia smiles back, and shifts in her stance and Charlie knows it must be ‘now or never’ time.
“So what’s the deal with you and Lincoln?” Olivia asks, and it highlights one of the biggest differences between her and Lincoln. Where Lincoln attempted to be coy about his interest in Charlie and Olivia’s relationship, Olivia prefers to just lay it all out there despite how uncomfortable it might make them both.
Charlie has options. He can evade this question with a simple “just because I like guys doesn’t mean I like every guy.” Knowing Olivia she wouldn’t fall for it. There’s also “we’re just partners,” which feels closest to the truth, but leaves a lot to answer for. Those are answers Charlie doesn’t have.
He’s been quiet for sometime, longer than should be. Olivia decides to elaborate. “You’re all he talks about when he’s drunk.”
It should be a lie because Lincoln doesn’t get drunk, but then again, how would Charlie ever know. Three beers and he can’t remember a thing after. There’s a part of him that wants to know more, what Lincoln could possibly be talking about, but he silences it. If Lincoln wanted to tell him those things, he would. Instead he shrugs his shoulders. Tells the truth.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Olivia frowns like it’s the wrong answer, like she’s the one being wronged. Charlie never regrets telling the truth, but right now, he can’t look her in the eye and he would really like out of this elevator.
“He loves Liv,” he adds. The not me goes unsaid but Olivia hears it anyway. He has a tendency to ramble when things get really uncomfortable. He realizes he’s just making it worse.
Olivia grabs his hand and the nerves inside him subside. “I think he loves you more.” He can see her looking at him out of the corner of his eyes. She squeezes his hand and he finally looks at her again. “It’s kind of sweet.”
She bumps his shoulder with hers, and it finally gets him to smile. He’s about ten seconds away from turning and pressing his lips against hers when the doors to the top floor open.
Before he can, everything goes to hell.
---
“My phone went dead,” Lincoln says, making tread marks in the grass outside as he takes three steps one way, two steps back, feet in front of where Charlie’s leaning against the building, fumbling with his cigarettes.
Lincoln grabs the lit cigarette out of Charlie’s hand before it can make it to his mouth. Lincoln doesn’t smoke. Lincoln doesn’t pace either. Now he’s pacing and smoking. If Charlie weren’t so rattled inside, he’d probably laugh.
“Lincoln.” Charlie says quietly, “It’s okay.”
It’s not okay, but it’s not Lincoln’s fault either. It was bound to happen eventually. Peter was still working for Fringe Division on his side and these centers were all about safe travel between universes. It made sense that they be put to use. It made sense that Peter, who was heading the project on his side, had heard the Vegas centers weren’t working in tandem and had flown out there to help fix them.
It was fated. It seemed everything between Peter and Olivia was. Still the look in her eyes when those elevator doors open, the way the smile fled her face at the sight of that baby strapped to Peter’s chest, it made Charlie believe that fate was a cruel bitch.
“She doesn’t need this. I didn’t need this,” Lincoln sighs, and Charlie knows it’s not the same as what Olivia went through, but Lincoln must have had his own hell this morning. “He looked so smug with his tailored pea coat and fancy shoes. If Henry hadn’t been there…” Lincoln trails off, and Charlie feels the anger pulse through his veins.
Lincoln hadn’t known Henry long, but for the first five months of his life, he had been the closest thing the kid had to a father. Losing Henry had hurt Lincoln just as much if not more than losing Liv.
Lincoln dies the cigarette out half way and eyes Charlie, who hasn’t said much since Olivia asked them nicely to give her and Peter some time alone.
“So much for all your big talk about teaching him a lesson,” Lincoln says.
Charlie thinks it’s meant as a joke – Lincoln’s attempt to cheer them both up, but Charlie’s head is in a dark place. He’s come to care about Olivia this past year and he’s always cared about Lincoln. Peter Bishop has hurt them both.
And here’s the thing: Normally, Charlie’s rational. He knows he cannot blame Peter for all of this. He followed his heart in the hopes of not hurting Olivia anymore than he already had. Liv and Peter loved each other and they wanted to make a safe and stable family for their son. For all Charlie’s jokes about punching Peter Bishop, the rational side of Charlie believes Peter did the right thing – as a father and a man.
However, at this moment, Charlie’s rational side has gone dormant and been replaced by blind emotion.
“You’re right,” Charlie says and he pushes himself off the wall and heads back inside.
He’s pretty sure once they’re in the elevator, Lincoln’s hissing things like “Charlie, I was just kidding,” “let’s go back outside” and “oh God they’re gonna fire you.” He can’t hear any of it.
He’s out of the elevator as soon as the doors open enough for him to slip through. Lincoln makes a grab for his shirt but misses. His walk has become more of a fast strut and Lincoln struggles to keep up, to stop him without drawing any attention to them. Always the diplomat.
Peter and Olivia are where they left them – huddled at a small table off to the side. Olivia spots him first, and they both stand up, Peter turning to face him.
There’s a speech on his lips – a really long one that’s been formulating since he met this Olivia , but one look at her and he’s sure that Olivia’s said everything that needs to be said. So he does the one thing Olivia can’t do. The one thing Lincoln wouldn’t. He pulls his fist back and knocks Peter Bishop out cold.
---
If you asked Charlie what happened next, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. His mind wakes up from the fog when he’s downstairs, leaning against the car. Olivia’s pacing this time. Lincoln’s staring at him with a mix of concern and awe.
He clears his throat and Olivia stops pacing to look at him.
Lincoln places a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Are you with us now?”
“Yeah.” His throat feels hoarse. He wonders if there had been yelling.
“You shouldn’t bottle all that anger up inside,” Lincoln says, a teasing grin working its way onto his face. “Rage blackouts are serious business.” Charlie opens his mouth to ask if Peter’s okay, but Lincoln cuts him off. “He’s fine. A couple stitches. I’m not sure he could press charges even if he wasn’t okay. Cross universe jurisdiction is kind of gray matter right now.”
“Somebody needed to hit him. You’re too polite and Olivia’s too nice,” Charlie says, his voice a little too defensive maybe, “So I did it.”
Lincoln nods. “You did say if you ever saw him again, you’d hit him. And you always keep your word.”
Olivia huffs in disbelief and Lincoln’s eyes narrow. “Don’t look at him like that, Olivia. He was defending your honor.”
“Maybe yours, Lincoln,” Olivia says, and the hand that was on Charlie’s shoulder slips away. Charlie holds back the sigh. There’s about a minute of quiet where they all just stare at their feet before Olivia breaks the silence. “I have to admit it was a good punch.”
“He didn’t even see it coming,” Lincoln says immediately, and for the guy who was trying his hardest to keep Charlie from making a scene, he seems pretty excited. “You hesitated like you were going to go into this big speech and then just – bam – you cold clocked him. It was brilliant.” Lincoln’s phone buzzes. He frowns at the sight “Ooh that’s not good. It’s Director Bishop.”
Lincoln turns away, and Charlie watches Lincoln climb into the driver’s seat of their car. He and Olivia are left alone.
“You really didn’t have to do that,” Olivia says.
“I know,” Charlie says, “We’re a team – you, me and Lincoln. We got to watch out for each other.”
The smile is finally back on her face. She places both hands on his shoulders, as she leans in and brushes her lips against his. “Thank you…I think.”
---
The jury’s still out on Charlie. According to Director Bishop, they’ll have an answer in the morning. Charlie doesn’t hold out much hope since he just knocked out the man’s son. Of course, they decide the best solution is to go gambling. Charlie and Olivia both nurse the same drink all night. Lincoln downs enough for the both of them and wanders off to flirt with the pretty ladies by the craps table.
It’s like a car crash. Olivia and Charlie can’t look away. Lincoln’s gorgeous, but he’s also a bit of a dork. His charm only goes over well with people who can reconcile those two facts. Olivia laughs, “Who does he think he’s kidding?”
“Himself,” Charlie says automatically, and his voice sounds a little too bitter. “Sorry,” he amends.
Olivia shakes her head like it’s nothing and smiles. “Most of my memories are pretty vague from my first time here, but I do remember you checking on him every night in that chamber.”
If Charlie blushed, his cheeks would be crimson right now. “Someone needed to make sure he was taking care of himself. He sure as hell wasn’t going to do it on his own.”
“Does he know?” Olivia asks.
“If he does, he’s not gonna mention it.”
Olivia reaches over the table and entwines their fingers together. “It must drive you insane.”
It does and it doesn’t. He wouldn’t have been in so many serious relationships if he didn’t crave commitment. Lincoln’s never given him that. He comes and goes, shows up at Charlie’s hotel room or apartment, whispering moment of insanity like that’s enough of an explanation. Charlie wakes up alone. Either Lincoln will be in the kitchen eating his breakfast or already at work. They never talk about it after.
“It is what it is,” he shrugs, “I’ve bounced from relationship to relationship since I was sixteen. None of them have made me happy for very long.”
“He makes you happy,” Olivia concludes.
“I haven’t slept with him since you got here,” he says, and he hopes she’ll hear you make me happy too in that because he can’t choose between them anymore. He groans. “My head hurts.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” Olivia says quietly, “I feel comfortable and at home here and that’s all because of you and Lincoln. I never thought I’d be able to trust again after Peter, but I do. I trust you both with my life. I like things the way they are, and I wouldn’t change anything.” She lets out a little laugh before continuing, “I think it makes us unique – stronger, maybe.”
“Stronger,” Charlie repeats. He wonders whether an emotional bond between partners was really a good idea. He saw how much Peter and Liv’s betrayal had hurt Olivia and Lincoln. But then, he’s not Peter or Liv.
He doesn’t walk away. Neither do Olivia or Lincoln.
---
They don’t stay downstairs much longer. Somehow watching Lincoln strike out with women loses its appeal quickly. Charlie walks Olivia to her room. The edges of her smile aren’t as bright as they should be and Charlie can recognize the sadness creeping into her demeanor. He offers to sit with her awhile, but she declines. It’s been a long day and the finality of her relationship with Peter is beginning to set in. He understands that need to be alone – been there far too many times.
He spends a little time watching TV before he wanders into the bedroom of his suite. It’s still early, but his knuckles are sore and his head still hurts from earlier. Vegas is all sounds and lights, an assault on his senses, and his mind is already filled with too many worries – about his job, about Olivia, about Lincoln.
He barely has his eyes closed when he hears the door to his suite open. His first instinct is to reach for his gun, but before he can, Lincoln is already lingering in the doorway. Charlie blinks a few times at the sight.
“Hi,” Lincoln says shyly.
“Hey,” Charlie replies, his voice hoarse from having not spoken in awhile.
Lincoln sits on the bed, his back turned. He removes both his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, but doesn’t undress any further. Charlie watches as he rubs at his eyes, listens closely so that he can hear the deep exhale, before Lincoln pulls himself onto the bed. He lies on his back, hands folded over his stomach.
The bed is huge and Lincoln feels too far away. Without thinking much about it, Charlie reaches over, clasps his hand around Lincoln’s wrist and tugs. Lincoln moves quickly, rolls over and curls himself into Charlie’s side, head and hand resting on Charlie’s chest right above his heart.
“Why don’t you like vacations?” Lincoln asks suddenly and Charlie tries to keep his heart rate steady at the thought, knows that Lincoln will hear the slightest change and call him on it.
Lincoln realized about three hours after meeting Charlie that he didn’t like vacations. He teases him about it, but he’s never asked why and Charlie has always been grateful. Mostly because he knew about three hours after meeting Lincoln that it would be impossible to deny him anything.
“We used to take them every summer, at least that’s what my mom would call it. She, Eddie and I would head up the Coast towards Boston. She had family there.”
The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them and now he’s caught. He feels the subtle shift of Lincoln’s head on his chest, knows those eyes are on him now and so he has to close his own if he’s ever going to continue. When he closes them, he’s there again, trying his best not to look out the back window, afraid he’d see that ugly turquoise pick-up truck, those dark empty eyes.
“We never actually made it to Boston. Dad always caught up. Every summer, he’d find us and drag us back home. Ten straight years he beat the shit out of my mom for pulling that stunt. And then one day, he finally got tired of us all and left.”
Charlie pauses now, a sense of panic flooding him. This is a secret he’s never shared with anyone, always running from the fear that one day he’d look in the mirror and see those same dead eyes staring back at him. Afraid if he shared those dark parts of his childhood with anyone, they’d see him as the frightened little boy always looking for an escape.
When he speaks again, he finds his voice is stronger than he expected. “I don’t like long car rides and I hate hotel rooms and I haven’t been back down Route 1 since I was seventeen and I got out of Miami.”
It gets quiet then and Charlie can hear Lincoln’s heavy breathing too clearly, can feel the tears dampening his shirt. Charlie pulls him closer, squeezes the shoulder his arm has curled around.
“Why didn’t you tell Olivia? Her stepfather –” Lincoln trails off, unsure how to finish the thought, how to repeat the terrible things that Olivia had told them.
Lincoln comes from a well adjusted family, from a father who loved his mother, who loved all his kids. Lincoln grew up happy, maybe a little stifled, but not scarred like Charlie was – inside and out. It’s hard for Lincoln to understand why Charlie would tell him this when he’s got no insight to give.
That’s never been the point.
“I wanted to tell you,” Charlie says, stressing that last word in the hopes that maybe Lincoln will get it.
From the way Lincoln’s eyes flash wide at the words, Charlie thinks he does. Lincoln pulls himself up so that he can kiss Charlie. The first kiss is just a press of lips, but when Charlie pulls back, Lincoln chases his mouth, curls his hand around the back of Charlie’s neck so he can keep him close.
It’s Lincoln’s touch, the way it can straddle the line between uncertain and determined. It’s the way his mouth always lingers centimeters from Charlie’s when they break their kisses so that he can feel the warm puff of breath against his lips. These things make him feel whole.
Lincoln smiles, a little unsure, before he lies back down.
There’s quiet again, but as relieved as he feels, Charlie knows that something is weighing on Lincoln, words waiting on his lips.
“It was easy to love Liv. She was never going to love me back,” Lincoln whispers, and then, his voice is so quiet that Charlie strains to hear the next words out of his mouth. “It’s kind of terrifying when they love you back.”
To the untrained ear, it sounds like a non-sequitur, but the truth is they’re both sharing shame here.
Charlie turns and brushes his lips against the top of Lincoln’s head. He hopes the gesture conveys enough. His chest is tight and his mind is bogged down by too many emotions. He cannot trust his words.
Lincoln sighs, clings tighter to Charlie, and it feels wonderful, just lying there watching the flickering of Vegas lights through the shade on the window across from them. He knows it won’t last long. Lincoln cannot stay quiet for long.
Sure enough as soon as the thought passes Charlie’s mind, Lincoln pokes at Charlie’s ribs, “So Olivia’s willing to share you, right? Because I kind of got that vibe.”
Charlie laughs, “You were here first.”
“So I get dibs?” Lincoln says. His index finger skims Charlie’s chest, makes random patterns as it goes. "She'll be good for you."
Charlie smiles, a soft upturn of his lips. "Keep me in line?"
"Make you happy.” Lincoln presses his lips to the Charlie’s chest, over the skin he’s been tracing. "Maybe someday I won't be such an idiot."
“Don’t worry,” Charlie whispers, “I like you just the way you are.”
---
vii.
Charlie was four the last time he slept so soundly. He was headed on his first vacation.
His psyche is an easy read like that.
He stirs at the sound of Lincoln's voice, but when he opens his eyes it's Olivia's hip he's staring at. Before he can ask how she got in here, not that he doesn't know, she gestures to Lincoln, who paces the floor in front of them with his phone glued to his ear. Charlie could focus on what he's saying but he'd prefer to stare at the mark he left on Lincoln's neck, the one that's just visible above the collar of his shirt.
Lincoln's never let him leave marks before. Charlie's trying not to read too much into it. Baby steps.
Olivia nudges him with her elbow and gives him a thumbs up and they both giggle - a sound that's foreign coming from either them.
Lincoln hangs up and informs Charlie that he got off easy (to which Olivia giggle's again and Lincoln turns a brilliant shade of red). Anger management classes. Counseling. Two weeks mandatory leave of absence.
Three weeks ago when this trip began, Charlie would have groaned at the thought of two more weeks of vacation.
But Olivia promises to come over on her lunch break and watch Jerry Springer with him, and Lincoln says he'll cook him dinner every other night, and Charlie thinks he'll be fine.
Happy, even.